After the Storm
by Neva
Summary: New X-Men timeline, post-Cassandra Nova. Angel and The Beak talk. Rated for moderate language and a reference to disturbing themes. Quite sappy.


A/N: This is a truly momentous event. After over a year and a half as an X-Men fan fiction writer, I'm finally posting a story that isn't anti-Xavier. This one takes place a little bit after New X-Men #126, after Cassandra Nova's been defeated and everything is (more or less) back to normal. 

Thanks goes to Nick, who turned me on to the NXM line; Sarah for giving me the idea; and Andraste, "Charlie's Angel."

Disclaimer: I own a Magneto action figure, one of Rogue, two of Wolvie, and one of Xavier. I do not own the actual X-Men concept.

It was a glorious day, warm and bright enough for the students at Xavier's to bring their lunches outside… something few of them felt safe enough to do without having their midday break interrupted by protesters at the gates or malevolent presences entering their minds. Not a month ago, the grounds had been alive with youthful shouting and laughter. But for the past week, the teenagers had huddled in groups as they unwrapped their sandwiches, talking softly to each other, an occasional nervous laugh issuing forth as if they had become afraid of pleasure.

"We've survived worse" was the general consensus. But, even now, it was hard to imagine what. Or when. After all, Jean Grey-Summers had reminded her husband, few of the current class had been around for Magneto's numerous threats. Or Dark Phoenix. Or the Shadow King. Some of them hadn't even gotten a chance to get used to life at the school before the nightmare had begun.

Still others had arrived right in the middle of it. And for them, it hadn't yet ended.

The chocolate-skinned girl in the crimson halter top leaned against the smooth bark of the birch tree, carefully positioning her body so that her dragonfly wings could fold on either side of the trunk. She took a noisy slurp of her soda, half-lidded eyes scanning the campus. She actually waved at a ghost-pale girl with hair like a purple sea anemone, then shook her head. Was she actually starting to get used to this place? True, it was preferable to the farmhouse in Wyoming, and the teachers a nice alternative to her filthy scumbag of a stepfather. But she was never going to get used to these damn cliques.

There were the Circus Freaks, who showed off their powers every chance they got. The Moaning Groaners, who weren't capable of uttering a sentence that wasn't part of some sob story. And there were the Mama's Babies, who thought they were better than everyone else because their parents had sent them to the school.

She herself had all the potential to be a Moaning Groaner, but she knew that whatever she said, Alison or Matt would be able to top it, and CJ would sure as hell try. Besides, she wasn't into sharing her feelings with the world. She could name one classmate, at the very least, with equal potential but (she guessed) similar reservations. He was shuffling his way toward her now, slowly, giving her plenty of time to tell him to buzz off.

She didn't, though. God help her, she'd been a goner from the first time he'd looked at her with tears leaking out of those oversized eyes of his. _Some bad-ass I'm turning out to be_, she thought. Aloud she said, "Hey, Barnell," and patted the spot next to her.

He stared for a moment, then sat down. "Hey, Angel." He punctuated this by letting a massive yawn issue from his beak. "Er, thanks for waking me up today."

She'd forgotten about that. "No problem. Didn't want you have to face the wrath of Mr. Summers." He didn't answer, just sketch a random design into the dust with one clawed finger. "Uh, you okay?" Still no answer. "Sorry, stupid question."

"My roommates say I kept them half the night."

She drew a blank.

"They say I was screaming, 'Don't do this to me! Don't make me hurt him!'"

What'd you say to that? Especially when you didn't even know the whole story? "Dr. McCoy?"

"Yeah. I've been avoiding him ever since… you know. I dunno what he thinks of me right now."

"But it wasn't even…"

"I know. I know he knows." Barnell shook his head. "But…"

"But it don't stop you from feeling ashamed," Angel finished for him. "I gotcha. You know, Beak, that bitch was controlling all of us. 'S not like you're alone here." Listen to me, I sound like a freaking commercial for this place. Sign me up for the Visored Wonder's welcoming committee and get it over with.

"Uh-huh, I know that too. And I'm not trying to sound like one of that group who sits in a circle and compares notes on whose powers messed their lives up the most."

"The Moaning Groaners?"

"Them," he agreed. "It's not like… no, never mind, you don't want to listen."

She took the bait. "Try me."

"It's not like I've even got any useful powers. I'm just funny-looking. I spent a lot of time feeling sorry for myself back in Rotterdam. Even most of the kids here ignored me most of the time. I can't read minds, I can't set things on fire, I can't fly or shoot slime like you. And they acted like it was my fault for not asking for gifts like theirs. Like I had a choice!" His voice rose slightly. "Even the other teachers were only interested in getting inside my head and finding out what could've kept me from fitting in. If I heard the word 'adjustment' one more time…" He trailed off. "Dr. McCoy… he was the only one who treated me like I was something special. Even if I didn't have any powers. Even if I didn't follow the crowd. And he was the one I hurt."

Angel was stunned. She'd never seen the Beak this talkative before. "You gotta stop saying that it was you."

"I know!" he snapped.

She held up her hands. "Okay, okay!"

"Sorry. But I'm wondering if maybe he's thinking, 'If he really cared about me and looked up to me like he said he did, he could have fought back. He could have stopped her.'"

"You haven't talked to the professor about this?"

"I've barely been able to _look_ at the professor."

For that, she had no answer.

"And besides, I still don't feel like I can talk to anyone. Even you don't know what it feels like to be…"

"Violated?" she guessed. He nodded. "Like there's someone else in control, and they think that it's not only okay, it's their right?" He nodded again. "Well, maybe I do." _His breath hot and rank in her face, drunken ramblings escaping his mouth, as one meaty hand pinned her to the bed and the other…_ She shook the memories away. "I'm going to say it again. You ain't alone. Sooner you accept that, sooner you'll be able to…"

"Adjust?"

"Well, yeah. Listen. I'm glad you told me all this. For real. But you know who you really got to talk to, right?"

He stared at the ground for a long time, then nodded.

"Hurry up, 'kay? Bell's going to ring soon."

He nodded a final time, managed a "Thanks" and took off at a run toward the mansion, flapping his awkward arms.

"Don't mention it," she said after him.

**

Hank McCoy sat in the empty lab, trying to put the files on the table in some sort of order. He didn't even notice the figure hanging in the doorway until a familiar voice said, "Um…"

Hank was no telepath, but Barnell Bohusk's first communication with him since he himself had woken up could only be about one thing. "What is it? Come in."

Barnell did, approaching the table with his hands behind his back. "I… I was talking to Angel… about when I…" He corrected himself. "When _she_…" Huge tears began to spill out of his large eyes. "She was _inside_ me," he blurted out. "She just pushed me aside and… she knew that you were the only one here who was really nice to me, and she made me watch, and I couldn't stop her." Sobs were gurgling out of his throat. "I thought you would hate me. All of you. Even though Mrs. Grey-Summers knew it wasn't my fault. I'm s-sorry…"

Hank placed his blue-furred paw on Barnell's shoulder and waited until the boy's cries had become several slow gulps. He could have said so many things: reassurances, pep talks, suggestions that Barnell consult Jean about the nightmares he'd been having. But he had a feeling that the Beak wasn't looking for any of those. He was looking for forgiveness. So Hank simply said, "It's all right," hoped those three words could convey his understanding, and waiting for the storm to pass.


End file.
